


The Luckiest Man Alive

by iWantMyDrumfredBack (BornBlue)



Series: Drummond Is Not Dead [16]
Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: Alfred Paget - Freeform, Drumfred, Edward Drummond Lives, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Then a big group scene with characters you know and those you don't, There's mention of some physical intimacy, You know by now that Drummond lives, and Alfred is just happier and happier about that all the time, but no specifics and they're pretty much done with the making out for now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 13:30:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14749779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BornBlue/pseuds/iWantMyDrumfredBack
Summary: Alfred plays host and makes some significant introductions.





	The Luckiest Man Alive

How differently the night turned out than Alfred had feared. Once again, Edward surprised him with his appetites; he felt spent from the intimate adventures of the evening, but was nonetheless happier than he had ever been. He tugged on the blanket he’d held to his mouth earlier and that now lay on top of them. As he pulled it more tightly around his shoulder, Edward’s arm, encircling him from behind, came with it. He felt a kiss on the back of his neck and heard a whisper in his ear, “I’m so happy I’ll have memories of you in my bed. It will be even better than this….” He felt Edward's head lift up as his hand grabbed something from beneath the pillow. In a moment, he was holding what appeared to be a bunch of wrinkled cloth in front of Alfred’s face.

 

“What is that?”

 

“The shirt I wore the other night at your house. It smelled enough like you that I couldn’t bring myself to have it washed."

 

Edward was so adorably sentimental sometimes. Alfred smiled and took a sniff. “It smells more like you than me, I think. Perhaps I should wear your shirt home when I get dressed and then we can keep each other’s,” he said in jest.

 

Edward pushed himself up excitedly on one elbow and exclaimed, “That’s perfect!” He leaned over Alfred’s face and gave him a kiss before pausing to look in his eyes. “I love you, Alfred.”

 

“Good,” Alfred said, as he turned onto his back, “because I’m about to ask you to do something that might be difficult.”

 

Edward’s face clouded over with concern. “What?” he said dubiously.

 

“I want you to come to my home on Thursday evening for a dinner party.”

 

“Why would that be difficult?”

 

“Because, if all goes to plan, Miss Coke will also be there. We may even play another duet.” Edward’s face was a picture of consternation, so Alfred explained to him his meeting with Charles Colville and the impetuous decision to throw the soirée for the express purpose of introducing him to Wilhelmina.

 

“Don’t you think it would be best if I weren’t in attendance?”

 

“No. It would look odd. The idea I presented was a gathering for my father, and how would it look if the man known to be my closest friend failed to attend? Besides, I want you to meet each other. I think you’ll get along very well.” Edward still looked a bit concerned. “Now, if you don’t think you can maintain your composure around Miss Coke, then, yes, we must make an excuse; I certainly wouldn’t want to risk another episode like the one we’ve just endured.”

 

“No, no, there won’t be any more like that, I promise.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Absolutely. It won’t be such a surprise the next time ‘round. And I’ve decided I’m going to give myself a silent lecture whenever Miss Coke begins asserting herself to you. I shall tell myself, ‘Ah, but Edward, she's never kissed him anywhere, let alone _everywhere;_ she’s never seen him without his clothes on; she’s never even addressed him without his title. She is not the one he loves… He is yours and only yours, and you are the luckiest man alive,'” a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes, “‘of which I’m sure he will remind you the next time you’re alone.’” He followed it with a kiss that nearly took Alfred’s breath away. “I think that ought to help, don’t you?”

 

“Hmmm, yes, and I will _definitely_ remind you how lucky you are whenever we’re alone. Although, in the interest of accuracy, you haven't kissed me everywhere yet."

 

“That is true, but I’m working on it."

They kissed again, and Alfred knew he had to leave quickly before a new round of passion began. They seemed unable to get enough of each other tonight. With great difficulty, he pulled himself away, got up from the bed, and headed to the ante room to get dressed.

 

“Noooooo…,” Edward moaned quietly from the bed, reaching in vain toward Alfred.

 

“Stop. You know I must go. We’ll both be tired and cross in the morning as it is.”

 

Edward flopped back on the bed, defeated, while Alfred gathered his clothes in the other room. “Now, if you would find where you threw my socks, I’ll let us trade shirts.”

 

 

 

__________

 

 

By the time he slipped into his own bed, the clock had just struck two. The covers felt rather cold and lonely after he had been so lovingly held, but he still couldn’t help but smile thinking about the evening and his ravishing lover. And he found that breathing in the scent of Edward’s clothing actually did help. _I suppose his shirt will now live beneath my pillow,_ he chuckled happily to himself while tucking it into its new home.

 

 

 

__________

 

The next morning he sprang into action. There was no time to waste: so much had to be done so quickly. He’d known over a week ago that his father would be in town and planned to join him Thursday evening for dinner, but the decision to turn it into a party had been strictly to engineer an expedient introduction between Colville and Miss Coke. His invitations had, therefore, to be fashioned with an apology for the short notice and a sincere hope that the invitee could fit the occasion into their social calendar. His RSVPs had not all been returned with an acceptance, but he nonetheless managed to pull together an intimate group which included the intended lovebirds, along with Harriet, Drummond, Lord and Lady Portman, and Lady Catherine Murray, another of the Queen’s former courtiers who, like Harriet, was not long ago widowed. All in all, it promised to be an agreeable gathering, despite the small size and the uneven match of men and women.

 

There was also a menu to be hastily planned and seating arrangements to be made… which were then scrapped and made yet again. These were normally things Alfred took great pleasure in, but there was no time to relish it, let alone pay his typical acute attention to every little detail.

 

By the time Thursday evening arrived, he was a bundle of nerves. It was not like him to be so anxious about a small dinner party, but there was a great deal at stake… and he had a nagging fear that things could go very wrong.

 

He hated to admit it to himself, but he remained concerned about Miss Coke’s effect on Edward and whether it would once again prove to be too much. Alfred knew he needed to have faith in him—and, really, he did—but it couldn't silence the little voice of doubt whispering in the back of his mind that said he was playing with fire and really should have listened to Edward: perhaps it would have been wiser for him not to attend.

 

But what was done, was done, and he was undoubtedly on his way to Alfred’s home right this moment, as were the rest of the guests. As he took a healthy swallow of brandy in the interest of steadying his rattled nerves, the bell rang. It was a bit early, but Alfred had expected as much. He heard Baxley answer and, within moments, a familiar, uneven gait in the hall.

 

"Papa!"

 

His father appeared in the drawing room doorway—white-haired, growing a bit stocky with age, but still quite handsome. Alfred had not inherited his impressive height, but he did have the shape of his father’s eyes, though Lord Henry’s were much darker. Even so, they sparkled with contagious joy.

 

"Alfred, my boy!" Henry Paget crossed to Alfred and embraced his son (their whole family wasunusually demonstrative), holding him for a moment at arms' length. "You're a sight for old eyes. You look good. And dare I say, happy?"

 

"As usual, Papa, you are most observant."

 

"Are you going to tell the old man why you're happy, or will I read it in the papers with the rest of London?" His eyes twinkled as he spoke.

 

"Who would not be happy to spend the evening with such a delightful guest of honour? How lucky I am to have you for a father." He kissed Henry's cheek and turned to pour him a glass of champagne. "How is Mama?"

 

"She is well and sends her love. She was sorry not to see you, but this will be such a short visit, and… well, you know she doesn’t much care for London during the season. I’m sure she’s happier overseeing the gardens than she would be finding excuses to turn down social invitations she’d rather not accept.”

 

Before Alfred could reply, the bell rang again.

 

 _Deep breath_ , he thought, handing Henry his glass. _And away we go._

 

__________

 

The Portmans and Lady Catherine were the first to arrive, soon followed by Drummond. Out of the corner of his eye, Alfred saw him come into the room and greeted him immediately, as the other guests were already engaged in animated banter with his father.

 

“Drummond! Thank you for coming.”

 

“I’m honoured to be included in such an auspicious occasion,” he replied, before lowering his voice for Alfred’s ears only, “You look very handsome tonight. I wish I could kiss you right now.”

 

Alfred shook his hand, stroking the inside of Edward’s palm with his finger—a private and hidden communication the two had become quite adept at.

 

“Come, let me introduce you. I beg your pardon,” he said as he gently interrupted the small reunion around Henry, “Lord and Lady Portman, I believe you know Edward Drummond, private secretary to the Prime Minister?”

 

“Indeed,” Edward Portman replied, shaking Drummond’s hand. Drummond gave a small bow to Lady Emma.

 

“Lady Catherine Murray, former Lady of the Bedchamber to Her Majesty—that was before your acquaintance with the palace, Drummond.”

 

“Ah, but I have heard of your efforts on behalf of the Harris economy, Lady Catherine. It's quite remarkable.”

 

“Not so remarkable,” Lady Catherine replied warmly. “Since my husband’s passing, the responsibility for our people falls on me, and I feel it keenly. These are most trying times, as I’m sure I needn’t remind you.”

 

“Well, it’s a path I’ve not seen a woman tread before—certainly not with your success,” Drummond replied.

 

“Most women do not have the ear of the sovereign. Besides, the Hearachs have an exceptional product to offer; I’m simply bringing it to a wider audience for everyone’s benefit. Once people are acquainted with it, Harris Tweed practically sells itself.”

 

“Indeed, and it appears your advocacy never rests. I believe you've convinced me to buy some myself.” Drummond’s reply met with chuckles among the group. “It is a pleasure to meet someone so accomplished yet so humble. May I offer my assistance should you ever require it.” Lady Catherine and Drummond nodded to each other before he turned to face the evening’s guest of honour.

 

As he put his hand on Edward’s shoulder, Alfred felt a strange thrill of excitement; he was on the verge of introducing his beloved father to his… well, to his beloved. Even if only Edward and he knew the significance of the moment, it moved him with unexpected emotion. “Papa—Lord Henry Paget—I would like you to meet my very good friend, Edward Drummond.”

 

“Ah, Mr. Drummond! I’ve heard a good many things about you— _most_ of them encouraging.” He laughed and winked at Edward as he took his hand and shook it vigorously.

 

Drummond laughed with sincere pleasure, “As have I about you, though I believe in your case they have _all_ been positive. It’s a pleasure to meet you at last.”

 

Alfred watched the two men shake hands and saw the genuine warmth in his father’s eyes. He felt a great sense of satisfaction, even bliss. But there wasn’t much time to savor it, as the bell had rung again and Colville was being ushered into the room. Alfred had barely turned around to greet him when the bell sounded once more, announcing the arrival of the final guests, Harriet and Miss Coke. His heart was pounding quite insistently by now; the moment of truth had arrived.

 

Clearly, Harriet had once again assisted Miss Coke in preparing for the evening, for she looked as lovely as Alfred had ever seen her. He was certain she had dressed to impress him—and he was indeed impressed, though not in the way Wilhelmina would certainly have hoped. He looked at Colville, who was already acquainted with all the other women in attendance, and so would have worked out which one was his intended. As his eyes landed on her, a small smile played at the corners of his mouth. He seemed to stand a bit taller, and Alfred observed him reaching up to straighten his cravat. It was all most encouraging.

 

“Well,” Alfred declared to the gathered company, “I believe I have a number of introductions to make all at once. I believe Lord and Lady Portman and the Duchess of Sutherland are known to everyone. So, may I first present our guest of honour for the evening, known to most of you, though best of all to me, my father, Lord Henry Paget. And Lady Catherine Murray, Countess of Dunmore and former member of the Queen’s household, my friend and a tireless advocate for the people of Harris; Edward Drummond, private secretary to Sir Robert Peel, my colleague for many a royal enterprise, and my good friend; Captain Charles Colville of the Prince’s Regiment, an old friend from our days at Harrow and one of the most accomplished equestrians I know; and Miss Wilhelmina Coke, Maid of Honour to Her Majesty the Queen, who, it turns out, is an excellent partner for piano duets. Perhaps we can all convince her to join me for one later.” A general agreement was voiced among the other guests as Miss Coke nodded shyly and looked quite pleased by the compliment. Colville was watching her carefully with a somewhat ridiculous smile on his face, but she hadn’t taken much notice of him yet. Her eyes still seemed to constantly fall on Alfred.

 

Harriet had noticed, and took matters in hand. “Captain Colville, I believe you were also at Harrow with my husband, the late Duke of Sutherland?”

 

“Ah, yes, Lord George. I was so sorry to hear of his passing. My condolences, Your Grace.”

 

“Thank you, Captain. My husband shared with me fond memories of outings and gatherings you organized for your classmates. Your thoughtfulness and initiative made quite the impression on him.”

 

“That’s very kind of you to say,” Colville glanced humbly at Miss Coke as if to note that she had heard this compliment.

 

__________

 

Before long, theywere all moving into the dining room for dinner. As guest of honour, Henry sat at the head of the table opposite his son. Alfred had struggled with the seating arrangements most of all, especially as he had ended up with an odd number of guests. He had placed Miss Coke by his father, afraid she would cling to him if given the opportunity. Naturally, Colville was on her other side, with Harriet and then Drummond completing that half of the table. Lady Catherine sat to Alfred’s left, with Lord Edward and Lady Emma rounding out the gathering. His father had a special affection for Emma and would have been vexed not to have her by him. Of course, this meant Alfred had seen no option but to seat her beside her husband—a bit of a faux pas, but one that couldn’t be helped: he wanted to maintain distance between Wilhelmina and Drummond, so the latter had to be seated at the end closest to Alfred. Of course, it probably wasn’t best for appearances for them to sit beside each other either, but to be honest, Alfred wanted to be near Edward and saw no compelling reason to deny himself. It would simply appear to be an unavoidable necessity.

 

As the party entered the dining room, he could tell that Miss Coke was not pleased to be at the other end of the table, though to be fair, she barely showed it; there was just a quick, surreptitious glance down at Alfred and then Drummond as she noted her placecard and took her seat. Colville solicitously pushed in her chair and began telling her about life in the 11th Hussars. She nodded and asked a question that showed she was listening to him, after which she managed to turn the conversation to include Henry and Emma. Before long, the guest of honor was regaling the entire company with battle stories and anecdotes that entertained one and all.

 

“…No, but I didn’t feel a thing.” He was directing most of his story about the battle of Waterloo to Miss Coke, who appeared unsure as to whether it was appropriate to laugh, despite the humor with which it was told. “I just heard the boom, looked down, and saw nothing where my right foot should have been.”

 

Emma urged him on, “Tell her what you said to Wellington—it’s my favorite part of the story!”

 

Henry patted Emma’s hand affectionately before turning back to Wilhelmina. “Without a moment’s hesitation, I turned to him and said, ‘By God, sir, I’ve lost my leg!’” He laughed uproariously, which made everyone else laugh in spite of themselves. “I’m convinced that’s why Wellington forgave me; how could he hold a grudge against me when I’d given my leg for the cause? And it didn’t really vex me—I’d had a long run as a good looking beau, if I do say so myself; it was time to move out of the way for the younger gentlemen.” He winked at Emma. “Besides, by that time I had married my lovely Charlotte and lost all desire to be a magnet for the gentler sex. Only one of them mattered to me, and she cared not a whit whether I had one foot or two.”

 

“What a romantic sentiment—to love no matter what,” Miss Coke declared, glancing down the table as she spoke. He saw Edward take a deep breath and smile just a bit too widely. Alfred reached his hand beneath the overhang of the tablecloth and gently squeezed Edward’s hand as it rested on his leg. They shared a small smile with each other before looking away.

 

“But I don’t believe,” Miss Coke continued, “that I know why the Duke was angry with you?”

 

“I think you may be the only one here who does not, my dear. Except Drummond, there, may not know either. Everyone else does, so perhaps I shouldn’t bore them with it.”

 

“No, Papa," Alfred replied, "I’m sure we’re all in agreement that you make any story interesting, no matter how many times it’s been heard.” There was a chorus of assent around the table before Emma joined in to press him further, “You can’t simply leave two guests in the dark, now that you’ve mentioned it. Of course, Miss Coke, you must be prepared; it was quite the outrageous scandal.”

 

Whether or not Henry should have told the story of his first marriage and divorce in mixed company was debatable—it came complete with a forbidden affair and surprise elopement with Alfred’s mother, after all—but then again, he _did_ tell an awfully good story and somehow managed to couch the more tawdry details in palatable terms. Mouths were agape with shock and eyes lit up with mischievous laughter. The ladies—most especially Miss Coke—spent a fair amount of time glancing modestly at their serviettes with each sordid detail. 

 

“And of course, Henry Wellington was Lady Charlotte’s first husband and the Duke’s brother, so naturally he held a grudge. To be honest, I probably would have done, myself. But by Waterloo, six years had passed, and then I gave my leg for the cause. I suppose it was time for bygones to be laid to rest.” Henry took a swig of wine. “So, that’s the scandalous story that explains the bad blood,” he said, turning back to Miss Coke. “I’m sure your aunt could have told you all about it, but she would undoubtedly have been blushing uncontrollably the whole time.”

 

“Well, sir, I suppose it is shocking, but rather romantic, too. Like something out of a book. Or an epic poem.” Again, Miss Coke’s eyes glanced down the table toward Alfred. Like Drummond, Harriet appeared to see it, as her eyes darted between the two. She smiled meaningfully at Alfred, who once again reached over surreptitiously to pat Edward’s hand. Thankfully, Colville seemed oblivious to it all.

 

__________

 

The rest of the evening went as smoothly as Alfred could have hoped. He and Miss Coke did indeed play a duet after dinner—the Beethoven she had mentioned that fateful day at the palace—but Edward appeared composed throughout. Most importantly, between her playing and her conversation, Miss Coke appeared to completely charm Colville, who looked positively smitten by the end of the evening. It was harder for Alfred to gauge Miss Coke’s reaction toward her potential suitor; all he could really notice were the number of times she seemed to glance in Alfred's direction or maneuver herself to be standing, walking, or sitting nearby.

 

Harriet noticed it, too. As Alfred accompanied her to the carriage, she whispered to him, “She’s not making this easy, is she? But don’t worry; I will set to work to sway her feelings more strongly toward him. Fortunately, it is quite clear _he_ does not need to be convinced.”

 

Aside from his father, Drummond was the last guest to leave, and unfortunately, this was not an occasion that would allow for a private meeting between the lovers. Edward could only impinge on Alfred’s time with his father for so long before it would appear unseemly.

 

With resigned reluctance, Alfred walked Drummond toward the door.

 

“That’s alright, Baxley, I’ll see him out. Would you tend to my father please?”

 

Once Baxley had left them in the foyer, Alfred turned and gave Edward a quick but passionate kiss. “Thank you. You were perfect.”

 

“I told you I would be fine now. Of course, I did have to give myself that lecture repeatedly tonight.”

 

Alfred smiled. “Well, it can’t hurt to remind yourself frequently that you’re the luckiest man alive.” He handed Drummond his stovepipe hat, stroking his fingers as he did so. “Do you like my father?”

 

“What’s not to like? He’s witty and charming, just like his son.” Edward glanced around Alfred’s shoulder and gave him another quick kiss before putting on his hat. Just as he opened the door, he whispered, “And I think your matchmaking may be paying off. I certainly hope so... and I hope we’ll be alone again soon. I need to work on my kissing project.”

 

Alfred’s cheeks flushed as his voice rose back to full volume. “Good night, Drummond. Thank you for coming.”

 

“Thank _you_ , Lord Alfred, for a most delightful evening.” And he tipped his hat with a grin as he walked out into the night.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Notes on the historical characters--
> 
> Henry Paget, like so much of the Paget family, is absolutely fascinating. Start with his wikipedia page if you're so inclined: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Paget,_1st_Marquess_of_Anglesey
> 
> And Lady Catherine Murray, Countess of Dunmore, has a remarkable story. I hope there are some biographies out there, but I started with her wiki page as well: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Catherine_Murray,_Countess_of_Dunmore
> 
> Charles Colville was also a real person, and I may have failed to include the link to his wiki page when I introduced him as a character in part 14: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Colville,_1st_Viscount_Colville_of_Culross


End file.
